Jealousy of an English rose
by PinkRibbon
Summary: When Arthur finally tells Francis off for real, the Frenchman, surprisingly stops bothering the Brit. Though, when Arthur visits France and sees Francis flirting with a French woman, his heart boils with unexplainable jealousy. FRxUK/FRxOC M for later ch.
1. Sudden shock

**Title: **Jealousy of an English rose  
**Pairing: **Francis x Arthur/France x England & slight Francis x OC (Jolie) with mentions of other pairings  
**Rating: **M rated  
**Language: **English, with French words and sentences (translated of course)  
**Genre: **Romance, Hurt/Comfort  
**Length: **In progress.  
**Chapters: **Twelve this far.  
**Summary: **When Arthur finally tells Francis off for real, the Frenchman, surprisingly stops bothering the Brit. Though, when Arthur visits France and sees Francis flirting with a French woman, his heart boils with unexplainable jealousy. FRxUK/FRxOC  
**Warnings**: Boy x Boy (yaoi), sexual content (in later chapters), slight AU, may occur OOC, etc. etc. ... Oh! And Francis!

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, FRANCIS!" roared the voice of the blonde Brit towards the Frenchman standing in his living room. The shorter haired of the two paced back and forth and hid his face in his hands, but took them away to glare at his 'visitor'. Had the Frenchman only come there to piss him off, **again**?

"_Angleterre, chéri, écoutez-moi_ …" began the Frenchman.

"Stop talking that **frog **language, you bloody git!"

"Arthur, hear me out, _chéri!"_

"Don't call me your bloody **darling**, you frog! I never was your darling, am or never **will **be either!"

The French could only watch as the slightly shorter man walked up to him and rose his hand and slapped the Frenchman, _hard_. Francis looked at his friend/enemy/frenemy or whatever he was, with a shocked expression on his face. The Brit panted from fury and something clicked inside of Francis' head.

Whenever he visited the Brit, it only ended in either a huge argument or with Arthur slapping him as he tried to steal a kiss. Maybe Arthur really didn't want a relationship with the French? Then, he wouldn't press him further. It wouldn't do any good for either of them.

"Get. The. Hell. Out. Of. Here," grumbled Arthur, staring at the other man. When the Frenchman did not move, Arthur roared again, "Are you really **that **thick headed, Francis? I'm **tired **of this! Do you get that? I'm **tired** of it! Just – get out of here and stop bothering me!"

"Okay."

Fluttering his eyes by the one word, Arthur stared at the man again, but this time with a more soft expression in his eyes, "What?"

"I said okay, Arthur. Need I repeat myself?" the man spoke in a somber tone, but seriousness was coming out of it and the Brit was shocked. Was Francis kidding him? "I will not bother _toi _anymore."

"Y-you … wh-what?" Arthur cleared his throat when he only stuttered and tried again, "You serious?"

Francis sighed, "Yes, Arthur. I am serious."

Stuttering again, the Brit looked at Francis in disbelief, "How come I don't trust you then? Why **should **I even trust you, _France?"_ Arthur spat out Francis nation name and almost felt sick of saying it.

"You have no reason to trust me, Arthur."

"No shit, Sherlock …"

"But even _moi _can see when my goal cannot be achieved. Or when someone is really tired of me. You are, my heart tells me. If you cannot believe me, then believe this: I would give you France if I bothered you again," the sincerity in the French eyes was a startle to the Brit. Not only was his eyes sincere, but his voice had no tone of arrogant **French **in it and Arthur really believed him, for some odd reason.

"So …"

"_Oui?"_

"You will stop … bothering me, for real?"

"_Oui_. I will stop bothering you," the Frenchman said before he sighed, "_Pardonnez-moi_, but I feel that I should take my leave now," the Frenchman turned and left the room. The only sound was from his feet and the front door gently closing after Francis' voice left a 'goodbye' and Arthur fell down on a chair, deeply in shock.

'_What the hell just happened?' _he thought to himself before burying his head in his hand once more, suddenly sobbing from – what? Relief? Sorrow? Even the Brit himself didn't know of what.

"D-damn you, Francis …"

Closing his eyes as more tears formed in his green eyes, the Brit sobbed further, deeply wishing that everything was different. But why? Isn't this what he wanted? To be away from Francis? Hasn't that been his goal from the very beginning? He had always rejected the Frenchman and his culture, his **language**.

"L-language of _–hic– _love, in my arse …"

* * *

_Angleterre, chéri, écoutez-moi_ … = England, darling, listen to me (hear me out)  
_Chéri _= Darling  
_Toi _= You  
_Moi _= Me/I  
_Oui _= Yes  
_Pardonnez-moi _= Excuse me/Pardon me


	2. Rencontrez Jolie  Meet Jolie

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

Francis walked along Seine in the sun. He held a newspaper in his hands and glanced to the date. Sighing, he realized that it had been a week and he had not heard nor seen Arthur since the argument. In his mind he could see the Brit celebrating for being away from him, but deep inside the Parisian wished for the longing of his heart to long for him back.

"_Mon cher Arthur, pourquoi as-tu fait cela?"_ the Parisian asked himself as he stopped dead in his tracks and brushed back some blonde locks out of his face. That's when he noticed the legs of a young woman and raised his sight. The female standing a few feet away was beautiful, Francis admitted.

Dressed in a stylish dress with a scarf around her neck, the woman's dirty blonde waves of hair tangled with the blowing wind and suddenly her grey eyes met deep blue ones. They stood there, silent and Francis guessed she didn't know French, since she was holding a map.

Suddenly, her pale red lips parted and words came out, sweet as sugar, "_Excusez-moi, monsieur. C'est ma première fois à Paris et je suis à la recherche de Notre Dame. Voulez-vous me montrer où il est?"_

Francis, surprised by the female's French accent, smiled, _"__Bien sûr, j'étais juste sur mon chemin moi-même,"_ he answered, his slightly darker voice being a nice contrast to the female's light one. He walked up to her and handed her his arm as a gentleman and she gladly accepted, "_Mon nom est Francis."_

The woman giggled, "_Jolie."_

"_Un si beau nom,"_ Francis said, now walking along the river with Jolie by his side. He was not really a ladies' man, but always a gentleman. Jolie now giggled again as Francis spoke and the man chuckled lightly.

"_Veuillez aussi, Francis_."

* * *

Two hours later, the pair was still enjoying each others' company. Francis now knew that Jolie was an artist and she painted quite beautifully – she even sketched a portrait of Francis when they were sitting on the grass by Seine. She was also born and raised in Nice, had two older brothers and loved nature.

She was really kind and her voice soothed the Frenchman as he would sometimes just close his eyes while she was walking. Ofcourse, he had to explain why he did that to her and she blushed and looked away when he did. Francis thought to himself that her name fitted her very well. She **was **pretty. And nice. And caring. And good looking. And **French**. The only thing that surprised him was the fact that she wasn't dating.

"_Êtes-vous sérieux?"_ Francis asked when she told him about it and his eyes were glowing with disbelief. They were at a café and Francis had almost choked on his coffee.

"_Je suis très sérieux. Je n'ai jamais eu une relation,"_ Jolie said with her voice serious and a tad sad. She looked at the blonde man and drowned in his blue eyes. Why had she not met him before? He was everything she looked for in a male.

"_Ce qui me choque. Une telle belle dame comme toi-même doit avoir des hommes pâmée sur vous en permanence …"_ mumbled Francis, caught in his own world and took a zip from what was left of his coffee.

"_Je pourrais dire la même chose de vous, Francis!"_ Jolie exclaimed and Francis looked up to meet her grey eyes, "_Vous n'êtes pas dans une relation non plus, et vos regards sont à mourir."_

Francis chuckled. '_To __**die**__ for?'_ he thought to himself and then shook his head. He finished his coffee and glanced at his watch. A quarter past five. A quarter past **five**! Francis stood up in such a hurry that his chair fell over.

"_Francis? __Quel est le problème?"_ Jolie asked and stood up, her eyes never leaving Francis blue ones.

"_Rien n'est faux, Jolie. Je suis juste en retard pour une réunion."_

"_Oh? __Donc, vous quittez alors?"_

Francis smiled, "_Mes excuses, mais je dois. Voici ma carte,"_ handing out a card to Jolie, he gave her a peck on her cheek, and then raised her hand to his lips, kissing them too, before lifting up the chair. He smiled once more, before he left, leaving Jolie holding his card close to her heart and her cheeks red.

"_Je ne vous oublierai jamais, Francis. Même si nous reverrons jamais,"_ Jolie whispered under her breath as she watched the blue dressed man walk away, his blonde locks flowing in the wind and he turned around one last time, to wave at her. She lifted her hand and waved back, forcing a shy smile to her lips.

Unbeknown to both French, across the street of the café stood a certain Brit, his eyes wide open and also his mouth. He had not meant to follow the two as he had come to visit Francis and apologize for his 'awful behavior', but when he saw Francis giving her his arm the arrogant Brit had made up his mind and had followed them.

He rarely understood what they were talking about, but judging by how the woman always smiled or laughed and how Francis always made sure that she didn't trip or walk over dirt. He had even pulled of his jacket to put over a **damned **puddle! The Brit trembled in anger when he thought about it.

But why was he so mad? Why?

* * *

My French is so bad and I apologize for that! But here are the translations. (I just realized how much French I wrote in this. Hah!)

_Mon cher Arthur, pourquoi as-tu fait cela? _= My dearest Arthur, why did you do this to us?  
_Excusez-moi, monsieur. C'est ma première fois à Paris et je suis à la recherche de Notre Dame. Voulez-vous me montrer où il est?_ = Excuse me, sir. This is my first time in Paris and I'm looking for Notre Dame. Would you mind showing me where it is?  
_Bien sûr, j'étais juste sur mon chemin moi-même_ = Of course, I was just on my way there myself  
_Mon nom est Francis_ = My name is Francis  
_Jolie _= The character's name, but it also means pretty/cute  
_Un si beau nom_ = Such a beautiful name  
_Veuillez aussi_ = Yours too

_Êtes-vous sérieux?_ = Are you serious?  
_Je suis très sérieux. Je n'ai jamais eu une relation._ = I am very serious. I have never had a relationship.  
_Ce qui me choque. Une telle belle dame comme toi-même doit avoir des hommes pâmée sur vous en permanence._ = That shocks me. Such a beautiful lady as yourself should have men swooning over you constantly.  
_Je pourrais dire la même chose de vous, Francis. _= I could say the same about you, Francis.  
_Vous n'êtes pas dans une relation non plus, et vos regards sont à mourir._ = You are not in a relationship either and your looks are to die for.  
_Quel est le problème?_ = What's wrong/what's the problem?  
_Rien n'est faux, Jolie. Je suis juste en retard pour une réunion._ = Nothing is wrong, Jolie. I am just late for a meeting.  
_Donc, vous quittez alors?_ = So you are leaving then?  
_Mes excuses, mais je dois. Voici ma carte._ = My apologies, but I have to. Here is my card.  
_Je ne vous oublierai jamais, Francis. Même si nous reverrons jamais._ = I will never forget you, Francis. Even if we never meet again.

I just couldn't keep my hands of writing this second chapter and uploading it. I have the whole weekend now to write, so I hope I'll have a few chapters up by the end of Sunday!


	3. Alfred's surprise

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

Slamming his door shut close, the Brit threw his jacket on the floor and grabbed the sides of his head as he let out an annoyed sigh. '_So much for trying to be nice,'_ he thought to himself and leaned against the wooden door. Frowning a little, Arthur made his way to his kitchen. Tea was what he needed now. Some good, olde Earl Grey would suit.

When entering the room, the Brit froze in his steps as he noticed a very familiar figure standing by his refrigerator. The leather jacket with the number '50' on the back gave him in and the male with glasses turned around with a huge smile on his face.

"Hey, Iggy!"

"Don't call me that, Alfred," Arthur grumbled, sincerely hating the nickname Alfred had gave him when Kiku had told them his Japanese name – Igirisu.

"No need to be grumpy, Iggy," the American pouted as he walked up to the table and sat down on one of the chairs, "I came here to see you and then you're all, I dunno, mad?"

"The term is **don't know**, Alfred," the Brit sighed at his former colony's accent, "And for your information, I'm not mad. I'm disappointed," Arthur poured warm water in his cup.

"Why?"

"That's none of your business."

"Come on, Iggy!"

"No."

"_Iggy_ ~"

"Don't push it, Alfred."

A smirk, "_Captain Kirkland _~"

_CLONK_. Arthur put his cup on the table, glaring at the American. Why was Alfred so darn annoying? '_Perhaps he's spent time with Francis without my knowledge?' _the Brit thought to himself and shivered by the thought of Francis spending time with Arthur. Not to mention that he was **never **called Captain Kirkland anymore.

"Don't you even **dare **to call me Captain Kirkland again! You do not have the privilege to do that! No one does! Why do you even care about the fact that I'm disappointed?" the Brit's green eyes darkened as he spoke, clearly hating to be **weak**.

"I'm the hero! That's why!" Alfred said, smiling widely, "And, believe it or not, Iggy, I care 'bout you."

Arthur groaned, "Yes, you've been **so **good at proving that," the sarcasm was practically oozing from his mouth as he spoke. Memories flooded through his mind, but he shook it off. Never in a **million **years would he be weak in front of **Alfred**. Sighing, he sat down and poured some milk in his cup.

"That's not fair, Iggy. I'm here, ain't I?"

"What does **Matthew **think about that?"

Alfred lowered his head by the mention of Matthew. The American was dating the Canadian since a few months back, despite that they were seen as brothers by the other nations and he gave a smile by the thought of the shy man, "He was the one telling me to visit you."

Nodding, the Brit now understood more. Matthew had always had a good influence on Alfred, but Arthur had always been jealous of the North American nations as he had feelings for the American, but they were practically gone now. He lifted his cup to his lips and closed his eyes as the liquid passed his lips.

"Arthur, you've been the one telling me to stop keeping things for myself, as they may hurt me. Now it's my turn to say the same to you," Alfred spoke after a few minutes of silence and the Brit looked up from his tea.

"Alfred …"

"Arthur, just tell me."

"No –"

"**Arthur Kirkland**, tell me."

"It's **Francis**, okay?" Arthur exclaimed, annoyance obvious in his voice and he slammed his hands to the table, "It's that goddamn, **wine** bastard!"

"Again? Iggy, I've said this before – and I'm pretty damn sure that I'm not the only one of your friends that has said it, Francis **loves **you. He has loved you ever since the start, even despite your feuds and fights. Even a blind cowboy could see that!" Alfred laughed at his own parable, while the Brit only glared at him, "Iggy, looks **can't **kill, so wipe that glare of your face!"

"Francis does **not **love me, Alfred! If he did, he wouldn't act like he did!"

Bursting out laughing again, the American almost fell off his chair, "Oh my god, Iggy! You have an imaginary vision of how love is. For you, love can only be if your counterpart acts a certain way, the way you imagine. That's bullshit, Iggy! Just bullshit! That's something Matthew taught me. He taught me a whole different side of love. Maybe Francis could teach you his way. Just sayin' …"

"Francis could never teach me mathematics, Alfred! He's a drunken frog! All he could teach me is how to get real drunk and nothing else!"

"Maybe you think so because you've never given him a chance! Have you even given him a chance, Arthur? Have you?"

"Well, no …"

The American laughed loudly, "Then you've got **nothing **to say about the matter! Just give him a chance before he disappears. Like I did," Alfred glanced at Arthur, letting the Brit know that they could have been together, but Arthur never took the chance. Now, Alfred was with Matthew instead.

Before Arthur could respond, the American had stood up and left. Hearing the door shut close, the Brit stared down at his feet. Had Alfred just told him off? **Alfred** out of all people had something to say that made sense? Though, what shocked him was that the American was right.

"Where is the world heading …?" Arthur asked himself before sighing and suddenly he threw his cup into the wall, feeling his heart crashing into pieces as the cup did, "Shit …"

* * *

There could have been a relationship between Arthur and Alfred - who would've thought?  
And, I'm a huge fan of USxCA, so I just had to throw that in, don't hurt me!  
But maybe, just maybe Alfred will return to help Arthur - in one way or the other.  
No French in this chapter too! Amazing, no translations!


	4. Written jealousy

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

"_Papa_," Matthew spoke, breaking his father out of his thoughts and Francis looked at the Canadian. It had now been two months since the 'break-up' – as the nations called it, between Francis and Arthur and it had began to disturb many of the other nations, due why Matthew Williams now was at his father's mansion in Paris.

"_Mathieu,_ I almost forgot you were here," said the Frenchman with a smile on his face. Although, when his son did not smile back, Francis knew something was wrong, "_Mathieu?"_

The Canadian cleared his throat before speaking, "_Papa_, I know why are seeing Jolie," the French rose an eyebrow, "You're doing it to annoy Arthur, so that he will beg you to be with him instead. It is so **lame**, _papa!" _Matthew for once looked really angry with his father and managed to stay so.

"_Mon petit Mathieu, _I am not seeing Jolie to annoy _Angleterre_, you have my word on that. I happen to like Jolie. She's a much better company than Arthur, and I take that any day," Francis said, his voice calm. The Canadian stood up from his seat and walked up to his father, his violet eyes watering as he did.

"Francis Bonnefoy, you are … a disgrace," Matthew said, his voice cracking as he did, "Have you not **always **loved Arthur? Where did my **father **go! Where is the man who would take up his phone to call Arthur and tease him, then hung up and smile! A more genuine smile than he now wears when he's around a woman who's **half **his age and doesn't even know that the man she's interested in is, in fact homosexual! Come **on**, _papa_, we all know that you only feel attracted to **men **and not women!" the Canadian felt tears burn in his eyes as he spoke in a harsh tone to the man who had raised him, the man he always depended on, but not anymore.

"_Mathieu …"_

"_Non, papa! Non! _Don't start with that again! I am not finished!" Matthew shouted, really **shouted** towards his father, "I don't want to have anything to do with you until you've realized how low you have sunk and don't call me until you've made up with Arthur, _d'accord?"_

"… _Oui, Mathieu." _Francis answered after a few seconds of silence and his son nodded, before leaving the room. The Frenchman sighed, before his attention turned to the clock as it now struck seven. In half an hour said man had a date with Jolie. How much longer was he going to lead the female on? He was not interested in her in any way. He hung his head by the thought of Matthew shouting at him.

But how could he blame him? The Canadian was right. Francis **loved **that _rosbif_ to Englishman and even though they had never been in a relationship, the Frenchman felt as if he was cheating on Arthur with Jolie – although he would never do such a thing.

Suddenly, the phone rang and Francis' hand acted on impulse and grasped the phone and held it to his ear, "_Allô?" _he answered in French, not knowing whether or not the caller would be French or not.

"_Devinez qui!" _a female voice from the other end said, a giggle following suit.

Francis forced a smile, "Jolie."

"_C'est exact! Je voulais juste vous appelez et demandez si vous voulez annuler le cinéma à venir chez moi à la place?"_

"Jolie, _Je suis désolé, mais j'ai d'autres plans pour ce soir, je dois donc annuler la date ensemble," _Francis said, a sigh escaping his lips as he spoke.

He heard Jolie give a sigh too, "_Je comprends, mais j'avoue que j'avais hâte de vous revoir,"_ she said, hurt obvious in her voice, then she cleared her throat, "_Nous allons juste voir si nous pouvons répondre à un autre jour!" _she tried to sound cheerful, Francis noticed.

Then, all that Matthew had said to him disappeared, "_Quand je pense à ce sujet, avez-vous un certain temps pour une tasse de café à l'heure actuelle?"_

Jolie gasped in joy, "_Oui! __Le Café Soleil, non?"_

"_Exactement."_

"_Je serai là dans cinq minutes!" _the call ended with a click sounding from Francis' phone as he placed it on its rightful place and hurried to the door.

"Screw _Angleterre,_" he said to himself, smirking viciously to his reflection in the hall-mirror before opening the door to walk out.

* * *

After a few more visits from Alfred, Arthur had finally made up his mind about whether or not take up his contact with Francis again. He was going to give the Frenchman another chance. After all, he deserved it.

So, he made his way over the channel parting his country and Francis' with a boat. Feeling rather confident about seeing the Frenchman after two months, the Brit smiled as he walked towards Francis' house through the streets of Paris.

Suddenly having to stop when a couple nearly walked into him, he apologized, then continued to walk, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a familiar voice coming from the male of the couple. He turned around and noticed the male had blonde locks and a blue suit.

"F-Francis?" he stuttered, surprised by how low his voice sounded. The male turned around, and it was indeed Francis. He stared at the Brit with surprised blue eyes.

"Arthur? What are you doing here?" Francis asked, surprised and released the woman clinging onto him and walked up to the Brit, "I didn't know –"

"**Obviously**," Arthur spat out, nodding towards Jolie. Francis noticed how Jolie was offended by the Englishman's actions and cleared his throat. Arthur looked at the Frenchman instead as he heard Francis clear his throat.

"Don't offend my date, Arthur. There is no need to be angry with her, now, is there?" the Frenchman sounded slightly forced to say it, Arthur noticed, but didn't care about it. He only shrugged.

"Whatever. I'll just go back home. Enjoy your **date**, Francis. With your **girl**," the Brit knew as all others that Francis was a pure homosexual, so to see him acting all high and mighty in front of a lady almost sickened Arthur.

As the Englishman began to leave, Jolie said something to Francis and the Frenchman ran after the blonde haired male and grabbed him by his arm.

"Arthur! Listen to me," he began, but Arthur shrugged his arm away.

"Forget it, Francis! Just, forget it. Forget everything. Forget that I came here. Forget all our fights. Forget our differences. Forget **me**," the Brit said, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Just ... Just …" he continued before he suddenly fell down on his knees, grabbing his face with his hands, trying to stop his tears, "Just leave, Francis! Leave! Your date is waiting for you!" anger and hurt mixed in his voice.

"Arthur …"

"Didn't you hear me?"

"_Oui_, but …"

"LEAVE! FUCKING **LEAVE**, FRANCIS!" the Brit stood up on shaky legs and pushed the Frenchman out of his way and ran. He ran as fast as his legs could bare him, with tears falling down his red cheeks and he sobbed against the wind.

'_I can't believe that I actually __**love **__you …'_

* * *

_Papa _= Father/Dad  
_Methieu_ = Matthew in French  
_Mon petit_ = My little/cute  
_Angleterre _= England in French  
_Non _= No  
_D'accord_ = Okay  
_Oui _= Yes  
_Allô _= Hello (used when answering phone)  
_Devinez qui_ = Guess who  
_C'est exact! Je voulais juste vous appelez et demandez si vous voulez annuler le cinéma à venir chez moi à la place?_ =That's correct! I just wanted to call you and ask if you wanted to cancel the Cinema to come home to me instead?  
_Je suis désolé, mais j'ai d'autres plans pour ce soir, je dois donc annuler la date ensemble._ = I'm sorry, but I have other plans for tonight, so I have to cancel the whole date.  
_Je comprends, mais j'avoue que j'avais hâte de vous revoir._ = I understand, but I admit that I had been looking forward to seeing you again.  
_Nous allons juste voir si nous pouvons répondre à un autre jour!_ = We'll just see if we can meet some other day!  
_Quand je pense à ce sujet, avez-vous un certain temps pour une tasse de café à l'heure actuelle?_ = When I think about it, do you have some time for a cup of coffee right now?  
_Le Café Soleil, non?_ = Café Soleil (sun), right?  
_Exactement_ = Exactly  
_Je serai là dans cinq minutes. _= I'll be there in five minutes.


	5. Decision time

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

Arthur fell to his knees and scratched them against the rough ground. For how long had he been running? The Brit hissed when pain started to spread from his knees and examined his fresh wounds. They were dirty, but not too bad. After all, he had been through worse – in a different way. Although, the small pebbles and dirt in the wounds made the pain for the Brit on the verge of unbearable.

He got up, feeling his muscles tense around his wounds, but got to the wayside so that he wouldn't be in the way and then sat down on the grass, examining his wounds further. He tried to remove what pebbles and dirt he could before using a leaf with dew on to wipe the rest, but whimpered from the sharp pain.

Looking at his now trashed trousers, Arthur sighed and pulled his legs up, leaning his head against them, being careful so that he wouldn't touch the wounds. His green eyes shut close and two tears escaped them, falling down his cheek, then onto his clothing. He tried to breathe in a steady rhythm, but found himself sobbing instead.

"Stupid … wine drinking … frog bastard …" he whispered under his breath as more tears slowly fell down his cheeks. He lifted his head and looked around. His friends were nowhere to be found and the Brit had never felt so alone in his whole life.

Now, he had no one to turn to. Before, he could always see someone when he needed to, but now he just couldn't. Alfred would more than likely yell at him, **again** and Matthew … Well, Matthew was going to take his father's side – right? Francis was no option what so ever. Kiku then? No, Kiku was too far away.

"Shit …" Arthur cursed before hiding his face once more. He had to make a decision though; he needed someone to comfort him …

* * *

Matthew and Alfred were watching a horror movie, despite the fact that Alfred was so afraid of them. They cuddled up together on the couch and when Alfred's front door slammed open, **both **of them shrieked in fear.

Alfred got up and said to Matthew, "Mattie, stay here!" he pulled a spoon with him to use it as a weapon and walked out in the hallway. Holding his, err, **spoon** high, the American hero was prepared to strike the intruder, "HAAAH!"

When thunder stroke, Alfred stopped himself as he saw Arthur, wet from the raging storm outside and with red eyes. His trousers were torn over his kneecaps and as silence fell over them, the Brit threw himself in the arms of the American, crying loudly.

"Iggy?" Alfred asked, surprised by the Brit's action, but placed his arms reassuringly around the crying man, "Hey, hey … What's wrong?" he soothed and allowed the man to cling onto him. Matthew peeked out from the living room, but when he saw the crying blonde clinging onto his boyfriend, he nodded and walked back inside.

"I-I hate … I hate **myself**, Alfred!" the Brit cried and felt his walls crumbling. He didn't have to be strong now.

"You don't mean that, Iggy."

"B-but I – _hic_ – do! I fucking hate myself! No one will stay with me! I'm such an idiot!"

Alfred began to stroke his hands along Arthur's back, hushing the hysterical crying man, "Come on, that's not true. You have tons of friends that'll stick around."

Arthur snorted against Alfred's chest, "I **wish**."

The American sighed and led the Brit into the kitchen and sat down with him on his lip, "Iggy, tell me what's happened."

"Francis … – _hic_ – doesn't give a **damn **about me, Alfred … H-he doesn't love me … W-why else would he – _hic_ – be out with that … French woman!" Arthur sobbed out and clung onto Alfred once more, having never felt so small.

"I think that Francis misses company – someone he can be with and … Since you practically broke things off with him before, he … might not have had the courage to forgive you, afraid that you'll yell at him again …" Alfred said, stroking the Brit's hair with his hand, before placing it under Arthur's chin, forcing him to look into his face instead.

"Alfred … There's nothing I can do about it … He was the one who started it …"

"If I remember correctly, you're both as guilty as the other. However, Francis cares for you, deeply," the American said, smiling, "I care for you too, Arthur."

Arthur's lips parted slightly from Alfred's words as he closed his eyes and leaned in, closer to the American. But a hand came in between his own lips and Alfred's. The Brit opened his eyes to look into Alfred's blue ones. He shook his head.

"No, Arthur," he took away his hand, "I love Matthew. Even if I were to kiss you out of **pity **it'd still not be fair to him. To none of us. Not me, not Matthew, not you, not **Francis**."

Arthur's head flinched as Alfred mentioned Francis with such emphasis, "So what? He goes around and kisses **women **for some reason, why shouldn't I be allowed to kiss someone that I **actually **love?"

Alfred sighed, "You don't love me, Arthur. Not in the way you hope you do. We're more like brother now. Accept that, move on and don't give up on Francis …" he leaned in and pressed his lips against Arthur's forehead, before letting the Brit stand up, in understanding, "Go. Show Francis that you're much better than some French girl trying to steal his heart."

Giving a weak smile, Arthur nodded, "I'll try my best …" he turned to leave, but stopped himself and looked back, "Thank you, Alfred … and I'm sorry. Tell Matthew I said 'hi' …" he continued to walk.

Soon, the sound of the door closing was heard and Alfred stood up, "You can do it, Iggy …"

* * *

On the other side of Alfred's door stood Arthur, rain dripping onto his form once more that day, but for those who had seen the man enter the American's house just a few minutes ago, would have seen the smile spreading across the Brit's face. He was not letting Francis slip out of his fingers. He had already made that mistake and regretted it miserably.

"I'm not making the same mistake twice," said the man to himself against the raging wind. Another smile crept onto his features, "You may be the country of love, Francis … But I'll show you the way **England **loves."


	6. Jolie or Allison

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

Jolie watched Francis run after the short haired blonde man and her facial expression changed from the sweet that she had worn around the Frenchman to a more bitter one. She saw how the man Francis talked to cried and yelled things, things she could not make out. Suddenly, someone grabbed her by her arm and she was pulled into a smaller alley.

"Allison, what are you doing here?" a tall man with a beard asked Jolie. The female flinched, before she raised her hand to her forehead, grabbed her hair and pulled it off. Instead of those blonde locks, came a raven colored flood of hair, emerging from what had been a wig. The man sighed, "Another one? Who is it this time?"

"You will not believe it, sir. It's mister Bonnefoy himself," said the raven haired female, named Allison? Now, the man suddenly seemed interested. He nodded, as if to tell Allison to proceed, "I used my French charm and now I am Jolie LeTranger, born and raised in Nice and just finished school two years ago."

"I usually don't encourage my workers to fool the clients, but when it comes to a man of Mr. Bonnefoy's standards …"

"He has got no clue of what is going on. We have been seeing each other for quite some time now," the female pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered the man one, but he shook his head, "Suit yourself then," she shrugged and put one in her own mouth, igniting it.

"How long have you been seeing Bonnefoy exactly, _Jolie?" _the man made fun of the name as he pronounced it. Allison thought about it for a while, "Well?"

"About two months, I think."

"**Two months**?"

"I know, we work in a week, but he has been **really **annoying! A pure gentleman, not wanting anything and it pisses me off!"

"Allison, I'll give you **two **more days, and then I want my money," the man said, twirling his fingers around, slightly irritated, "Got it?" he took the cigarette out of Allison's mouth and she groaned in response.

"You'll have them by tomorrow. Okay?" she said as she bent over to collect her hair, before putting a wig cap on, then the wig itself, "You 'ave my vord," she continued, in a fake French-English accent and the man nodded in satisfaction.

'Jolie' ran back out and then towards Francis, who was now alone. She patted him on his shoulder, "Francis … _Êtes-vous bien?" _her voice was sounding caring and the Frenchman turned around, tears visible in his eyes. Jolie gasped lightly, "_Avez-vous battre avec lui, mon chiot pauvres?"_

Francis said nothing, only looked over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of Arthur, but found none. He turned fully against Jolie again and wiped his tears, "_Je vais bien. J'ai juste besoin d'un peu de repos …" _he said and when Jolie nodded and took his arm, he followed. '_Arthur …_' he thought as a new tear slipped from his eye.

* * *

_Avez-vous battre avec lui, mon chiot pauvres?_ = Did you fight with him, my poor puppy?  
_Je vais bien. J'ai juste besoin d'un peu de repos._ = I'll be fine. I just need some rest.

This was written in like, fifteen minutes? I had another chapter posted, but there were some people that gave it critique (good critique!) and when I thought about it, I saw that they were right so I decided to write this to clear things!


	7. Open my eyes

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

Francis gazed around in the living room he now was in. **Her **apartment, Jolie's apartment. What was he doing there, he had to remind himself. That's right, after his encounter with Arthur earlier; Jolie had taken the Frenchman back to her place to make sure he calmed down. Now, she was in her kitchen, preparing 'something'.

The French sighed to himself as he leant back in the couch and shut his eyes close. Arthur's voice rang in his head, '_Forget everything. Forget that I came here. Forget all our fights. Forget our differences. Forget __**me**__'. _What exactly had he meant by that? Forgetting a long sworn enemy and a new found friend? A man that the Frenchman happened to love by heart and soul? He couldn't, not even if he wished for it.

The scene played over in Francis' head and his eyes began to burn from tears when the pain in Arthur's face came into his mind. The Frenchman stood up, sighing loudly and was ready to leave, but Jolie entered in that moment, stopping dead in her tracks as she noticed Francis position.

"Francis?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle, something that Francis now despised, something he only wanted to hear coming out of Arthur's soft lips, not hers, "_Êtes-vous bien?"_

The Parisian had to resist the urge to glare at the woman for even daring to ask him if he was '**okay**'. Instead, he walked up to her and took her hand, raising it to his lips to give it a soft kiss, "_C'est gentille de vous inquietez pour moi__."_

Jolie blushed lightly as her hand came in contact with Francis' skin, but she wanted more, "Francis," she said and gained the man's attention. She smiled and leaned in close, brushing against Francis' lips with her own, but just as she was going to press her lips against his fully, he pulled back. Fluttering her eyes, the female looked shocked at the man, but before she could speak, he had a finger over her lips.

"_Non_, Jolie."

"Francis …?"

A sigh escaped Francis' lips, "I cannot do this," he spoke to her in English for the first time – after all, he loved English, England and … **Arthur**. He shook his head as she stepped closer to him and backed away.

Sensing that Francis no longer were to speak to her in their native tongue, Jolie gave a weak try of her own English, "But, Francis, 'ave ve not a zpezial bonde? I really zought ve 'ad. Do you not vant to take ziz relazionzip fyrther?" the female stepped closer once again, trapping Francis against a wall. Her English made him flinch – it sounded **awful**.

"No, Jolie. That is something I couldn't do! I don't love you," the words came of themselves and Francis surprised himself. Where had he heard those words before? 'I don't love you'.

"Francis, zweezart, ve can make ziz vork anyway! _Amour_ iz not nezezzary. I 'ave not ever been attracted to anyone az muzz az I am towardz you!"

"Actually, I disagree! Love is very much needed in a relationship! It is the foundation of all kinds of relationships!"

The female gave out a laugh, cold and at the same time, seductive, "Ze foundation of love iz intimazy, Francis, zweezart," Jolie licked her lips as she leaned in dangerously close, "Don't make me zpell it."

Francis' eyes were now wide-open, but yet, he now understood what Arthur had been talking about. Jolie acted much as he himself had done against said Brit and he now cursed himself for it, "Jolie, don't do this."

"Z.E.X," mumbled Jolie before she crashed her lips against the taller man, only hearing him let out muffled words, that sent shills down her spine by the vibration against her lips. If she had been a man, Francis would have pushed her away, but this was a **woman**. He could get thrown into jail if he harmed her in any way.

Jolie used her hands to place Francis' over her slim body as she pressed their bodies even further together, feeling the Frenchman stifling. She smirked, but was not giving up. She was going to get what she wanted – and that was Francis.

Realizing that his struggles weren't going to help him, the poor Frenchman pushed himself into kissing the female back, ignoring the bitter taste of wine and croissants, which he had before always found delicious. Giggling against Francis' lips, Jolie smiled as he kissed back and his hands began to move. Her hands trailed up his arms, over his chest and up to his face, where she cupped his cheeks and pulled his face even closer.

Groaning lightly, Francis' mind imagined that he was now kissing Arthur and he tricked himself into believing so. His hands wandered up the body in front of him and grasped the fabric of the shirt. The person hissed, or giggled, at him and he began to pull it up. Eyes closed, his experienced hands made their work and the top came off. Feeling skin under his hands, Francis smirked. '_Finally_.'

Roaming his hands over the toned body, the images of Arthur flashed through his head, but he suddenly caught himself as his hands stumbled over something awfully soft and full. He opened his eyes to see that he now was clutching Jolie's **breasts**! She still had her bra on and their faces were not connected by lips anymore. A smirk was on her face and she moaned.

"_MERDE!" _exclaimed Francis as he released Jolie's bosom and pushed her away, much to her annoyance.

"Francis, do not make me do ziz!" she threatened as she held up a napkin and a bottle of – liquid barbitone? Was she going to drug him? He began to rush towards the door, grabbing the doorknob only to realize that it was locked. Jolie walked up to him, pouring some liquid on the napkin and then pressed it against his mouth and nose.

The room around him began to move and he felt dizzy. Suddenly, the walls flew away from him and the floor came closer. All he heard was a loud 'thud' before everything turned black in front of him.

* * *

When the Frenchman finally woke up several hours later, he found himself in a bed, tangled in the sheets and **naked**. Panicking, he looked around in the room to find his clothes and he luckily did, putting them on fast. That's when he noticed a note that was placed on the bed, next to where he just were and he picked it up.

'_C'était amusant.  
Juste appelez-moi si vous voulez  
le faire de nouveau un certain temps._

_- __**Jolie**__'_

Feeling his blood boiling, Francis tore the note apart and threw it out the window. Without thinking, he actually took down one of the paintings off the wall and crushed it with his bare hands. Then, he hurried out.

'_Mathieu_ was right … I only saw her to make Arthur jealous. That plan backfired awfully wrong …' Francis thought as he walked along the pavement and hid his face in his hands as he continued to walk. After all, he knew the way to his house by heart and didn't need to see the road in front of him. It was too early in the morning for anyone to be out walking, so he wouldn't bump into someone.

He sighed as he took away his hands, to force himself to look at Paris. The town that he had grown up in, the town in where he had met Arthur for the first time, the town that now had betrayed him.

"Thank you for opening my eyes …" he still whispered as the only sound heard in this early French morning were the sound of Francis' feet walking along the pavement, "Arthur … if it is meant for us to become one, then … you'll give me my last chance …"

* * *

I was actually mad with myself when I wrote this, but somehow my fingers just kept on writing.  
No, the story is not near finished yet, I still have a few tricks up my sleeves.  
Though, I am relieved to have Jolie out of the way now. I was getting annoyed with her (I know that its odd, I mean, I'm writing this),  
first with her appearance and her sweet-ways and now her awful English. It almost killed me to write that.  
Ah, well! Reviews are appreciated!

And, I'm not forgetting the French in this chapter!  
_Êtes-vous bien?_ = Are you all right/okay?  
_Je vais bien_ = I am fine  
_Il est doux de vous inquiétez pas pour moi_ = It is sweet of you to worry about me  
_Non _= No  
_Merde _= Shit  
_C'était amusant. Juste appelez-moi si vous voulez le faire de nouveau un certain temps_. = That was fun. Just call me if you want to do it again sometime.


	8. Let's start over

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

Arthur packed his trunk, while a servant looked at him with a worried look. He had never seen his master in such distress and pain as Arthur had suffered through the last days and yet, the Brit didn't let it bring him down. He was the **United Kingdom **for crying out loud! He was Arthur Kirkland, a man who never gave up on his dreams – no matter how hard they might be to achieve. The servant sighed lightly before moving on with his chores.

'I really hope that Alfred's right about Francis,' the blonde thought to himself as he zipped the trunk closed and sighed, content. He glanced over to his bedside table where a ticket, along with his passport was located. He read the ticket and the words 'Location – France' caught his interest. He was going back to France, to Francis.

This time, was different however. He was not returning back to England before he had done what he set out to do in the other country. The Brit nervously twirled his fingers, but yet stood up and walked over to the small table and grabbed first his passport, then his ticket. Giving his room one last glance, Arthur sighed for the second time.

"I bloody hell hope that I'm not doing this in vain," he said to none in particular, grabbed his trunk after placing the pass and ticket in one of his pockets and walked out of the room with determined steps.

* * *

The roads of Paris were almost too familiar of the Brit as he now strolled down them. He had already checked in on his hotel and left his bag and now decided to just calm down and enjoy the beautiful scenery that was France's capital. No matter how many times in the past he had said he despised the country and the capital itself, Arthur deep inside loved it.

Okay, maybe he didn't **love **it, but he was always in awe when looking at the architecture. He envied Francis and how his people were so keen on showing their passion. Their love for their country. His own people were more and more drawn to Alfred. Freezing on the spot, Arthur noticed a somewhat familiar person sitting by the river Seine.

It couldn't be, could it? The person picked up a rock and threw it in the water. Bothered and alone. That was not the way Arthur was used to seeing the Frenchman. He hadn't seen him like that since … Well, since the Brits burned Joan of Arc alive.

Arthur knew that Francis had loved Joan, both as a father loved his daughter, but also romantically. Now, thinking back, Arthur couldn't help but to feel ashamed by it. He had always judged Francis before he even gave a try to get to know the Parisian. Maybe those judgments had always stayed? And maybe that was why it was so hard for Arthur to get over the difficulties he and Francis had.

"Francis …" his voice was barely a whisper, but the Parisian turned around by the sound of his name and looked at the Brit in shock. Arthur walked to his side and sat down without any other word.

They looked at each other in silence, none of them daring to speak.

Then suddenly …

"I'm sorry!" escaped both male's mouths and they once again were silent.

But now, a smile formed on Francis' face as he sat closer to the Brit, "Arthur, I cannot say how sorry I am. I have … tasted my own _médecine_."

"Oh?"

"Oui. Jolie used me."

Never before had Arthur seen so much agony, pain and regret in Francis' eyes and an arrow of guilt shot through his heart, "How …?" he whispered.

Not wanting to say it, Francis only embraced the other male, "Let's forget about her, _non_? Right now, I only want to show you my regret … Please, Arthur. Could we start over?" the Frenchman's voice was begging, "As friends, of course …"

Arthur pulled away to look at the Parisian's face and saw the honesty, "I would … like that, Francis. I want to … know you. Not France, you. Francis Bonnefoy, the person. May I get to know him?"

"_Chéri_, there's no need to ask for that. I am right here."

"Frog," Arthur joked.

"_Rosbif_.

* * *

I'm really, really, REALLY sorry for my absence here! I had a lot of turmoil in my personal life with diseases and just, personal things. Along with school.  
But, here is a new update and I really hope that I'll be able to upload at LEAST once a week (there may be more if I don't have so much to do during the  
weekends) probably during the Fridays, or the Wednesday, since I'm off from school earlier those days. It depends on my mood.

Once again, I'm really sorry. I hope you won't beat me up! *hides in fear*

P.S. Starting over, how nice, eh? *feels as a Canadian* D.S.


	9. Enjoying a new beginning

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

Starting over, with the past forgotten and forgiven was one of the best things Arthur and Francis had done in their … friendship? Could you even call it that? However, all of the other nations noticed the difference in the atmosphere whenever the used-to-be enemies were in the same room and the lot of them felt relieved by it. Their meetings never got interrupted by the Brit and the Frenchman fighting over something they disagreed on. Arthur still glared at Francis whenever the Frenchman disagreed with him, but never let it pass that stage.

Alfred and Matthew were the two that **really **appreciated the difference with their 'fathers' and the two became more affectionate and out in their own relationship. All thanks to the Brit and the Frenchman's improvement. Although, the two 'parents' felt quite odd seeing their sons who were as brothers kiss each other in public.

An "Eep!" escaped Matthew's lips as the American slapped his ass without shame during the coffee break on a world meeting. The Canadian hid his face in his hands, but Alfred removed them with a genuine chuckle to kiss his boyfriend, despite the other's desperate whispers that "they can see us!".

"Don't bother about that, Mattie," Alfred said before kissing his boyfriend once more, earning a harsh cough from Arthur. The self-proclaimed hero only smirked at his former care-taker and kissed the shy blonde a third time. Just then, Francis walked up to them and he and the Brit gave each other a nod and the Frenchman asked if he could steal away Matthew. Alfred reculantly let his boyfriend leave with his '_papa',_ but none the less, he turned to Arthur.

"I'm glad to see you and Francis are finally getting along on some matters," the American said, slapping the Brit's back, "It makes both me and Mattie to relax."

"Shut up."

"Why so mean, Iggy?"

"Alfred, just because I've started to act more of a gentleman around the wine bastard doesn't mean that I'm going to get **along** with him. He still disagrees with every opinion of mine," Arthur grumbled, remembering just a few minutes ago when Francis had taken a zip of his wine and stated that he disagreed with Arthur.

"Well, Iggy. Almost **everyone **disagrees with your opinions!" The American laughed at this and gave the Brit a side-hug before strutting over to Matthew and Francis, to steal his boyfriend away. Arthur mumbled something about 'ungrateful, spoiled brat' before he walked up to Francis with his hands in his pockets.

The Frenchman noticed him and turned around, "Anything you want to share with me, _Angleterre?" _he smirked through his question. The Brit only snorted and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Why would I even want to share **anything **with you, frog?" he spat out, but only received a chuckle from Francis.

"Arthur, _mon cher_, why so bitter?"

"Why are everyone asking me about stupid things?"

"We care about _toi_."

"In my arse, frog."

"If you want," Francis took a step closer and wrapped his arms around the Brit, placing his hands boldly on Arthur's ass with a smirk. Said man hissed and tried to pull away, but the Frenchman wouldn't let him go and squeezed the fine ass, causing Arthur to squeak, '_Like a girl'_ Francis thought to himself.

"L-let go, dammit!" Arthur demanded, only to be squeezed again by the other male. Raising his hand, he aimed in a hit on the other's cheek and the Frenchman released him, to put his hand to where the Brit had hit him, "Serves you right, perverted frog!"

Chuckling, Francis didn't let the pain in his cheek bother him too much as he once more wrapped his arms around Arthur, "_Cher_, relax. You're very stiff."

"You **make **me stiff, pervert!"

"Oh? I make you **hard**?" Francis twisted the words and smirked, in Arthur's eyes what was a mad smirk and another hit struck his cheek.

"Fuck you!" Arthur spat and quickly left.

* * *

After the meeting ended, Arthur found himself being saved from Ivan by Francis. The Russian had walked up to the Brit with a childish smile and mumbled 'kol kol', but the Frenchman had placed his arm around Arthur's shoulders and pulled him with him out the door.

"Hey!" Arthur complained as he tried to release himself from the Frenchman, but Francis only smirked and held the Brit closer, "Francis! Let go!"

"Stop whining, _cher_."

"Whining? You damn **wine **drinking, frog-bastard!"

A chuckle, "I prefer frog-prince, Arthur."

The Brit mumbled something about 'prince my arse' but felt himself relax a tad and allowed Francis to lead him towards a nearby café. Just a few minutes later, they sat there: Arthur with a cup of tea in his hands with a cookie (**biscuit**!) on a plate and Francis with a croissant and café au lait. They chatted only lightly and once in a while the curves of Arthur's lips pulled up into a faint smile, quickly erased as he didn't want the Frenchman to see that he was amused by something Francis had said.

Francis, however, did notice, but didn't bother about it, only chuckled, "I really hope that we're off to a better friendship now, _cher Angleterre_."

Arthur lifted his head and looked into a pair of icy blue eyes, getting slightly lost in them, before he cleared his throat and nodded, "Yes. Me too, Francis."

The two of them actually shared a moment of peaceful chatter. Francis took the light mood in hand and joked casually about all and nothing, causing Arthur to spit out his tea once from laughter. The Frenchman rejoiced in the sound of the laughter emanating from the Brit's throat and thought why he never really had taken joy in the sound that now sounded like music to his ears.

Arthur felt more relaxed in the Frenchman's company than what he had in the last century. It was a nice feeling, he had to admit: Being able to stay calm without worries of them suddenly fighting over nothing. And why hadn't he ever noticed the warmth and love that, oh, so radiantly glowed in Francis' eyes before? Had he not wanted to see it?

Could it be that their new beginning really was the new start for them? However, Arthur secretly thanked his guardian fairies (he doesn't have angels, you know, except for Britannia Angel) for having the chance to start things over with the Frenchman, who now only glanced up to the sky with a peaceful look on his face.

'_Thank you …'_

_

* * *

_AN: Ugh, I'm really, really, really sorry for the wait! T_T I've had loads of personal things to take care of and school on top of that.  
However, I feel a lot better now than what I did a few weeks ago, so I hope that I'll be able to continue to write this fanfiction,  
it seemed like people actually enjoy it, which makes me REALLY happy. I'm very genuine about that, seeing new and old reviews  
really makes my day and I can read them over and over again. No matter if they're positive or negative or has some kind of critique.  
It helps me to improve.  
On other notes, I enjoyed writing this chapter. I'm a sucker for happy things, pardon me T_T *feels very British*


	10. Give it away

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

A knock on his door startled the Frenchman who had been reading a newspaper. After folding the paper and placing it on the table, Francis stood up and walked up to the door and opened it.

"_Matthieu?"_ he asked, chocked to see his adoptive son standing outside the door with his signature red hoodie under a trench coat. Raindrops dripped from the younger male and he shivered lightly. Fatherly instincts put in as Francis reached out and pulled the Canadian inside the house, closing the door, "_Mon petit_, you're soaking wet! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, _papa_. I just have to get out of this coat and have a cup of tea," the violet-eyed male said in his hushed voice. The Frenchman nodded and helped the Canadian to remove his coat and then ran to his kitchen to make some tea.

'_I wonder if Matthieu likes Earl Grey … Like Angleterre … Arthur,' _Francis thought to himself and smiled by the thought of Arthur. He and the Brit were going out later that week. Arthur had however refused to call it a date, to Francis' amusement. _"Francis, it's just two friends meeting out town, no bloody date" _he had said, that foolish Brit. Chuckling to himself, the Frenchman did not notice the Canadian that now sat down by the table.

However, when the younger blonde coughed, Francis spun around very gracefully, something that Antonio had taught him from the Spanish dances, "Uh, _papa_ … There's something I'd like to ask you."

"_D'accord_. Ask away, _Matthieu_," Francis nodded before striding over to sit down on the table next to his son. He noticed the younger's struggle for the correct words, but he remained patient about it. After all, this was his dear _Matthieu_. The boy he had learned the French language, and who now also used it as one of the two official languages in Canada.

"Well … Alfred … Alfred _proposed _to me yesterday …"

"_QUOI?"_

"H-he asked me to marry him, _eh_!"

"I understand that, _Matthieu! _Did you turn him down or why are you here?" the Frenchman's eyebrows furrowed and the Canadian twiddled his thumbs nervously.

"_Non_, _papa_, I accepted, but … W-wouldyouliketogivemeaway!" the shy male hid his now red face in his hands, "B-because I couldn't ask Arthur, since he didn't really take care of me for that long and you're like a-a real father to me and …"

The young male ranted while the Frenchman still tried to make out what the Canadian had asked. The rant about Arthur and the father ship didn't really interest him. _Dieu!_ What **had** the Canadian asked him?

"_Matthieu!"_

"Y-yes, _papa?" _Matthew finally stopped his ranting and looked into his father's blue eyes, finding comfort in them as they reminded him of Alfred's blue eyes.

"What was it that you asked me? You were talking too _rapide_," Francis chuckled as his son blushed again. He patted the blonde's head, being very careful that he didn't touch that one haircurl located in the Canadian's hair. The Vargas' brothers weren't the only ones with _special _haircurls.

The shy Canadian slumped where he was sitting and mumbled out the words instead of trying to just shoot the words out, "Would you like to give me away? … At the wedding?"

Francis' features softened as the question this time reached his ears, "I would be honored, _Matthieu_. I will do it with pride. I'm so happy for _toi_ … And for Alfred _aussi_ ofcourse," the Frenchman's lips turned into a huge smile as he ruffled his son's hair with care. The other laughed with a light blush on his cheeks.

"_Merci, papa_. It really means a lot to me …"

"Anytime, _Matthieu_."

* * *

"God," muttered Arthur before he took another zip of the tea he had ordered and glanced over to the Frenchman in front of him, "I can't believe that **Alfred **is getting married. To **Matthew**, none the less. Didn't we raise them to be brothers? Did we do something wrong?" the Brit sighed.

The news of his former colonies' engagement had come as a shock to him, just as their relationship from the beginning. As individuals, he had nothing against them (not counting the countless times he fought with Alfred over small things just as much as big ones) as individuals, but to see them together had been very awkward to him.

"_Non_, I don't think we did anything wrong. Like I've told _Matthieu_ countless times: Embrace love, don't run away from it. You'll be sorry if you do," Francis' voice carried a tone that Arthur rarely heard and it made him smile, just a little.

"Sounds like a really good advice …" the Brit said, zipping on his tea.

"He's not the only one who should follow it, Arthur."

"I have no idea what you're talking about right now, Francis."

"I think you do, _Angleterre_."

"Oh, so we're on nation name basis now? Well, **France** I don't understand what you meant by that statement. Is that so hard to understand?"

A chuckle.

"… What's so funny, you bloody frog?" A frown.

"_Toi _are, Arthur," Francis said and chuckled again. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but his face looked softer than it had before. He enjoyed the Frenchman's company, although he rarely admitted it, to **himself**. He would never admit to **anyone **that he even was out with Francis. Not on a date! It wasn't a date … Or was it?

"Funny, in my arse …"

"Oh, I know many things you can have in your arse –"

"SHUT UP!"

A plate being thrown. Splashing and two voices joining in laughter. The two blondes couldn't ask for anything else. Except for the fact that one of them were going to be forced to pay for the plate.

* * *

Another update, woh! I'm still alive, I promise!

Here's the (unnecessary, maybe?) _French _- English dictionary  
_Matthieu _- Matthew in French  
_Mon petit_ - My small (My cute/My little) | Affectionate  
_Papa _- Dad/papa  
_Angleterre _- England  
_D'accord_ - Okay/Fine  
_Quoi__?_ - What?  
_Non _- No  
_Rapide _- Rapid (quite obvious)  
_Toi _- You  
_Aussi _- Too ("*** too")  
_Merci _- Thank you/Thanks

I'm sorry for the small amount of FrUK-moment in this, I just had to throw in my daily dose of AmeCan. xD  
However, I'm thinking about throwing in some _l'amour _in the next chapter!


	11. I promise

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

_The feeling of Francis' strong hands cupping his face made the Brit blush heavily as their faces inched closer. His eyelids fell closed as the Frenchman's lips pressed against his and soon he could feel how his mouth was invaded by Francis' tongue and an involuntarily moan escaped his lips. British fingers claimed the French hair and pulled at it, ever so lightly._

_Their lips parted with a light 'pop' and Francis breathed against Arthur's lips, "Angleterre …"_

_"Please … just call me Arthur …"_

_"Arthur … Je t'aime …"_

_Arthur felt how tears invaded his eyes and he parted his lips, "Francis … I …"_

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Who! Wait? What?" Arthur opened up his eyes in his bed, or at least he thought it was his bed, but when the familiar French walls came in sight, he fluttered his eyes to clear his sight. The loud knocking on the door pierced his ears again and he groaned loudly, "What is it?" he had not meant for it to come out so harsh, but when Francis came inside, what mattered?

"Good morning on you too, Arthur," Francis chuckled as he placed a tray he had been carrying on the bedside table and sat down on the side of the bed.

Arthur groaned again, "What the hell do you want, bloody frog?"

Francis clutched his heart through his shirt, "Arthur, you hurt me! I'm just bringing you breakfast after a, what I hope, pleasant good night's sleep?"

"Oh, bugger off."

"I will, I will," the Frenchman said and winked before he rose from the bed and walked out without any argument.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and stared after Francis until the door blocked his view by closing. He then looked to his side. Bacon and eggs with a cup of tea. Since when had the frog cared about what he ate? Deciding to not care much more about it, he just threw his legs over the bedside and sat up to smell the tea.

'_Earl Grey? Since when has the bloody wine bastard kept Earl Grey in his stash of tea? Does he even __**drink **__tea?'_

Confused, Arthur took the plate with bacon and eggs and put in his lap. A smile crossed his lips as he noticed how Francis had placed his breakfast so that the eggs were eyes and the bacons a smile, "Stupid frog …" he mumbled to himself, but the smile didn't cease, "Trying to bloody charm me …"

On the other side of the door, Francis stood with his ear pressed to it, '_Am I succeeding?'_ he thought to himself as he heard the mumbling of the Brit.

* * *

"FRAAAAAAAAAAAANCEEEE! IIIIGGYYYYY!" Alfred's voice roared through the Frenchman's house and Francis almost choked on his wine from the piercing sound of the loud American. The Brit sitting on the opposite side of him just kept on zipping his tea, ignoring his former colony, until said male burst into the kitchen, "Didn't you guys hear me?"

"Oh, we heard you all right," Arthur grumbled and zipped his tea, "Git."

"Then why didn't you answer me?"

"We were busy trying to breathe, _Amerique_. You scared _la vie _out of me!" Francis exclaimed, giving the American a stern look, but the self-exclaimed hero just waved it off.

"Whatever, whatever. I came here to talk to Iggy."

"Me?"

Alfred rolled his eyes, "No, I came to talk to the **Flying mint bunny**," Arthur was about to charge for the younger blonde, but Francis gave him the same stern look Alfred had received just seconds ago, "Ofcourse I came to talk to you!" the American continued, flashing a smile and before the Brit could say anything further, Alfred had pulled him out of the kitchen and out in Francis' garden.

"Bloody git! I didn't even get to finish my **tea**! Now it'll get cold!" Arthur scolded and pointed his index finger in the American's way. Alfred only smiled and waved it away. '_Is that his new habit?' _Arthur thought to himself.

"Forget about the tea! I came to give you some advice in **love**!" the American stated proudly and Arthur glared at him, "What? I know my way in love. That's how I enchanted my Canadian," Alfred smiled at the thought of Matthew, or well, more of a blushing Matthew. Darn that Canadian and his cuteness!

Arthur spat, "When the bloody hell have I asked **anyone **for their advice in love? And why would I even need it? I'm a British **gentleman **for crying out loud! I know how to be bloody romantic!"

"If shouting 'Cor blimey! You bloody frog!' is romantic, then maybe you are romantic. But I doubt it."

"Listen, git. I don't need your advice or anyone else about love!" Arthur's face was flushed and Alfred found it rather amusing that the Brit got so wound up about it.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the American only smiled, "Isn't that why you have been spending a lot of time with Francis?"

Suddenly, Arthur's voice was lost and he could only stare at the younger blonde.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? Hah, I'm so good! The hero to the rescue!"

"W-what …?"

Alfred slung his arm over Arthur's shoulders and pulled the other close, "I'm going to teach you the way heroes love! And then you'll have that Frenchman around your finger in no time!"

"**What**? Are you saying that I need your advice to hook up with **Francis**?"

"So you **are **in love with him?"

"What? I didn't say that!"

"Oh, but you meant it! Admit it, Iggy!"

"Kiss my arse, bloody git!"

Laughter erupted from Alfred's mouth, "Sorry, Iggy, but that ass of yours is only for Francis. I've already got an ass to kiss."

"Go to hell."

"I'm not going to, Arthur," Alfred's voice suddenly changed from naïve to serious, "Why can't you just open your eyes and see what a perfect match you and Francis are? Sure, you two fight like there's no tomorrow, but you guys complement each other!"

The Brit could only stare at the American, but no words came out of his mouth.

"If it weren't for you letting me go, I would never have found Matthew. At least not in the way I have now. This is my repayment. I'm going to help you find love too."

Arthur lowered his gaze to the grass, "I don't need your help, Alfred. Even if I were, and I'm not bloody saying that I am!" here the Brit looked up, "Even if I were in love with Francis, I could manage bloody well on my own into making him mine!"

"Then show me. Show **us**! Why else would you have given him a second chance if you didn't love him?"

"I …"

"That's what I thought. Don't let him slip away, Iggy. Just, don't."

"Alfred …"

The American smiled, almost sadly at his former caretaker, "Promise me you won't."

"I … promise …"

"That's what I came here to hear," Alfred said, his voice awkwardly gentle. He then turned around to walk inside, wave goodbye to Francis and leave.

"I promise …" Arthur repeated under his breath and then entwined his fingers together.

* * *

_Je t'aime_ - I love you  
_Amerique _- America  
_La vie_ - The life (out of me)

WOH! A quick update, cookies for me! *munch, munch*  
And, yes, Alfred to the rescue! A shout-out to MelodyOfStarshine who encouraged me into having Alfred giving Arthur a serious-talk. x3  
PinkRibbon is going to sleep now! Over and out! ~


	12. Winter and hockey

**Disclaimer: **I do **not **own Axis Powers/World Series Hetalia (The webcomic, the manga or the anime). APH belongs to ©Hidekaz Himaruya. This is done for fan-purposes only and for no profit of any kind.

* * *

Hard. That's what it was. Trying to meddle with his feelings and his mind was something that Arthur always had, had troubles with. His heart was telling him to give in to the Frenchman that he used to despise, but now had strong feelings for, while his mind, stubborn as it was, tried to tell him that he'd never go along with Francis.

Sure, he had been enjoying the time he now spent with the Frenchman and the older blonde rarely used any of his so called French charm against the Brit. It was, enjoyable to say the least. And he knew that the other felt the same. About the enjoyable part! Nothing else!

Now the winter was coming along. And thus the winter games. Arthur found himself traveling to America to pick up Alfred, then Canada to pick up Matthew, back to England to pack his belongings and then to France to pack Francis' things.

"It's for Alfred and Matthew," was Arthur's reason as his two former colonies participated in many games – hockey counted as one. True, England also participated in some, but in the hockey championships he had been defeated early and soon joined by France. Which lead them to their current position: Sweden's house.

The quiet nation held the Hockey championships in his country and had, by request of Finland, invited the participating countries to stay at his house. Or, some had to stay in the nearby hotels as the only house with enough rooms in it would be Russia's, but no one in their right state of mind would want to stay at Russia's house. Not counting Belarus, that is.

* * *

Now, the nations who got a room, either with another nation or by themselves, found themselves in Berwald Oxenstierna's living room, trying to make the time pass in their wait for Matthew and Alfred to return from their match against each other. They all knew how rough things got on the ice when the Canadian and the American team met.

"I bloody swear that if Matthew won, Alfred's sitting in some corner crying his little arse off."

"Hey! I don't cry!"

The nations looked up to see a very exhausted America, hugging his fiancé Matthew, his Canada close, while both of them smiling.

Francis was the first up on his feet to go up and give them both a hug, "So, who won, _mon petits?"_

Matthew giggled when the slightly older blonde next to him groaned and mumbled something about 'can't talk now, I'm gonna take a shower' and they both disappeared as fast as they had popped up.

"USE PROTECTION!" Francis shouted after them, causing himself to be hit in the back of his head by a blushing Brit.

"You bloody, wine drinking, smooth-talking, perverted French git!"

"Now, now, _cher_, save those compliments for when we get home, _oui?" _Francis said, smiling through the numbing pain after the hit. And then, another hit.

"You'll be dead long before that, git!"

"Oh, will I now? _Cheri_, for what I can remember, you haven't beaten me in centuries!"

Arthur slapped Francis' cheek and his eyes were turning dangerously dark, "And yet, almost every time we've battled, **I **have been the winner!"

"I have always **let **you win, _cher!"_

And the fight was on. They would have continued if Tino had not run to Berwald's room and taken the tall nation with him so that he, along with Germany could pull the two nations apart. After having said more insults to each other, calmed down and been released, Francis and Arthur only laughed at their own idiocy.

Arthur laughed with his hand to his mouth while Francis had his on his neck. Glancing towards each other when the other didn't look, both of them had only one thought in their minds.

'_I love him.'_

_

* * *

_God, I feel like a bad person over here. For not updating this as fast as I know many (including myself) would've wanted.  
For those who have stuck with this story from the beginning, I don't know what to say to you but "thanks".  
It means a lot, new as old reviewers. Also, I'll really, really, really try my best to update more frequently. *wishes she can hold to it*  
Anyway, here's the twelfth chapter, where there's a bit jump in time, so our two nations have been bonding quite a bit during that time.  
(which may just come out as an extra chapter/fanfic later)_  
_I'll also be happy to wish you a belated Happy New Year! _  
_


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